♥ ― Araceli opened her eyes to a dream world--the Sanctum, but reimagined, better than she'd ever seen it before. The gardens were lush and colorful, practically overflowing with plants. The greenhouses were shining, gleaming, their clear glass letting in all the light needed for the growing plants inside. The mansion was like a beacon of light, drawing her attention to it almost immediately. Inside, she was sure, the hallways would be freshly painted and renovated, the personal rooms bright and colorful, the gathering areas places of joy and cheer. The rooms would be filled, children would be playing and getting underfoot, and overall the mansion would be full of Sanctumites.
Only then--once she had gotten used to the marvel of it all--did she notice that there was another being in the dream with her. The swift fox gasped, surprised at how someone could be standing so close to her and she not notice. True, the being's body was hardly corporeal, consisting of dead leaves and dirt and fallen twigs, swirling around in a vaguely animal-like form. "Araceli, the Crown of the Sanctum, one of my most loyal," a voice spoke, coming from this odd being, somehow, but also coming from everywhere. The voice was rough, but not entirely unpleasant, like stones rubbing together--how sometimes they could be harsh and discordant, how other times they could chime out as beautifully as a bell. "Do you not recognize me?"
And Araceli gasped once more, for although she'd never seen Herthe before, there was little doubt in her mind as to who it could be. "Herthe!" she cried out, belatedly remembering just who this was. "My lady," she said, bowing low. The goddess only smiled, turning to look over the grounds.
"I have little time here. I am of the earth, not of dreams and nightmares--it can be dangerous to have the power of a god in one's mind--so listen, and heed my words. First, I'm proud of you--I saw you when you first came, weak and half-dead, exhausted from running. Even then, your courage had caught my attention. And now you have found yourself the leader of the group I watch over, and protect. You have my blessing for that--I know how hard it must be for you. Choosing a co-leader was a wise choice, for one as inexperienced as yourself. With her help, the Sanctum shall go far. It is growing again now, and part of that is due to you. The Sanctum has been revived, on a path to its former glory, and for that you have my thanks. But pay attention--enemies are still rising, and the Sanctum is particularly vulnerable. What you did with Westeros was an accident, I know, but from now on you must be careful. Allies can't be lost to something like a vampire losing control."
Araceli bowed her head, ashamed. All this time she'd beat herself up over becoming something that only craved blood, over attacking a member of Westeros and thus losing that useful alliance. Herthe's words just further compounded her guilt and shame. "I--I know," she whispered, still staring at the ground. Herthe chuckled, low and rim-sounding, but a laugh all the same. Startled, Araceli looked up. "My lady?"
"Accidents happen sometimes. Just so long as you've realized you've done wrong, and are working to prevent it from happening again." Somehow, without Araceli quite realizing it, the beautiful visage of the Sanctum had faded, until it was just her and Herthe's swirling form, everything else shrouded in mist and fog. "You have great potential, and always remember I am watching. Wake up, and receive my blessing."
And then Herthe was gone, leaving Araceli alone.
Her eyes flew open, and she almost bolted from her small, cozy den hidden underneath a tree's exposed roots. Not that that the dream was scary in any way, just... shocking. Herthe had actually come and spoken with her? Even now she could hardly believe it. She sighed a little, closing her eyes. She'd known of Herthe almost since she'd joined, but up until now hadn't ever really believed, utterly and truly, in the goddess. She'd had so little to go on, after all, and she wasn't the type to believe without some sort of affirmation.
But, now, the goddess had spoken to her. Araceli frowned, trying to recall exactly what she'd said, but could remember little more than what Herthe's words had felt like: pride and approval. Still, all the same she knew it had been the goddess, not just some dream. The Crown lowered her head to duck underneath the roots and head outside, too unnerved and anxious to go back to sleep despite the sun only just beginning to come into view. However, she paused, feeling a sudden new strangeness within her, on her. She paused, looking down. Her paws were still there, but marked a golden brown, brighter than her own orangey-brown fur. The new coloring was not random, she realized, nor did it completely cover her. Gold-brown lines, like ivy almost, snaked out from between her toes and wound around her paws, spiraling up her legs and likely onto the rest of her body.
Was this, then, some sort of gift Herthe had given her? But why, for what reason? Surely a goddess wouldn't care about a simple change in color. The swift fox cocked her head, thinking of where the nearest pond might be, so that she could view these new changes better. Once again she headed out, feeling something odd slowing her movement, preventing her from leaving as easily as she'd done before. Araceli plopped down, awkwardly reaching a paw up to the top of the head and meeting something decidedly not air, which was what she expected. Instead, her paw met solidness, coolness, slickness. Bone? "No..." she mused aloud. "Horns."
Now the urge to go find a pond was stronger than ever. What exactly had Herthe done to her?
She found out moments later, half-bewildered, half-amazed. The swift fox stood looking down at a small pond, tiny, barely big enough for swimming, but large enough for a mirror. As thought, the gold-brown ivy had made its way all over her body, nearly disappearing on her torso, but bold and commanding on her limbs and tail. Streaks of gold highlighted her eyes, like kohl, and from the outermost corners of her eyes two thin lines headed up to her horns, following the curve of the horns. Like ram's horns they were, though so light she'd barely noticed them, twisting tightly and sweeping up and back from her head. This could only have been caused by Herthe, this she knew for certain. Perhaps a blessing, perhaps a reminder, perhaps the affirmation Araceli had always sought. "Thank you," she murmured, bowing her head, not knowing what else to say.
